


Wish you were mine

by HoneyWhatever



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alfie's POV, Bar Owner Alfie Solomons, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Soldier Tommy Shelby, they are NOT endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyWhatever/pseuds/HoneyWhatever
Summary: I want to blame you, but we both know I hurt myself with my own expectations.-Based on the Prompt "Why am I so afraid of losing you when you're not even mine?"
Relationships: Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: Peaky Blinders Prompt Fest - Spring 2020





	Wish you were mine

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [PBPromptFestSpring2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PBPromptFestSpring2020) collection. 



> **Pairing:** Any  
>  **Prompt:** "Why am I so afraid of losing you when you're not even mine?"

The first time I saw him walking into my bar, he was with two other guys and they seemed in the spirits to celebrate something, so seeing as my waiters and waitresses were busy already I walked up to their table to take their order and also to take a better look at you, and I thought you were even more beautiful up close.

“Evening, lads. What can I get ya?”

“What you feel like drinking before leaving, Tommy?” the one that looks older of the three says, and that’s the first time I heard your name.

“A bottle of whiskey should be a nice drink goodbye.” Your voice hunts me till this day.

“Where you leaving?”

“Afghanistan. First tour.” A man who serves his country. I like that.

“Hope when you come back, you come back here to celebrate too.” And that night, after I’ve closed the bar and gone home, I prayed you come back safe.

That’s the last time we spoke until eight months later when you showed up dressed in your uniform and asked for a single glass of whiskey, “welcome back” I said, “it’s good to be back” it’s all you said before paying and walking out.

Two weeks later you showed up with the same two men −who I found out that first time were your brothers− and a few other men, and without even asking I got you all a bottle of whiskey −Irish, your favorite− “leaving again?” I asked, “tomorrow” is all I get.

That second tour lasted about a year, and for a hot second I thought something happened to you. But then you showed up with a bunch of your military man and the little knot in my chest finally eased up.

For some reason, the thought of something happening to you drives me up the walls. I see in your eyes that you want to leave it all behind and just live your life but you keep going and I don’t know why, so I live my life afraid of losing this, of losing you and your sporadic visits.

We go on like this for seven years −five tours in total−, and even when we’ve never crossed more than ten words a visit, I still go home every night to pray for your safe return and always feeling like I can finally breathe whenever I see you.

Last time you came, you were in your uniform along side your military mates and your brothers, a beautiful blond woman hanging from your arm, you were looking at her like she has hanged the moon and the stars, like the sun only shines because of her smile. And I can’t blame you, she’s stunning but truth be told, I think you are more beautiful than her and all the stars put together but I’ll never tell you that, so you’ll never know how good you always look.

“Grace, this is Alfie, the owner of this place. Here is where me and the boys come to celebrate when we are back home and where we mourn the ones who didn’t make it back.” You talk about me to other people? “Alfie, this is Grace. We here to celebrate I’m done with the army. Honorably discharged.”

“That’s good news, Tommy. Congratulations.” I’m very happy for you, maybe now I can finally tell you how you make me feel, how every night I prayed for your safe return. Maybe now there’s a chance for an _us_.

“It is. We here to celebrate too that Grace here has finally said yes to me.”

What?

“We’re getting married!” she says, and she looks happy and so do you −and that pains me the most− but I smile and congratulate the two of you, but I feel like I have to get out of there, so I let other barman take your order, excusing myself with administrative work.

Once I’m inside my office, I clutch my chest and the knot I’ve always felt when you went away to serve our country is now even tighter in my chest. My body is numb, my mind is blank, I can’t hear anything but the blood rushing through me.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

All this time I was afraid of losing you to the hands of our enemies that I never thought I would lose you to a woman.

Somehow, without ever having you, I lost you.

* * *

_**[tumblr](https://itshoneywhatever.tumblr.com/) ** _

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first prompt I've ever written, hope that whoever requested it is happy with the result. I tried my best.
> 
> Also, this is the first time writing angst, and I feel proud of how it came out, although it was a little painful to write it.
> 
> ♡ Comments and Kudos are more than welcomed ♡


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